An Alternate
by Lafayette1777
Summary: The trio was lucky to make it out of the war alive. What if they hadn't been so lucky?


An Alternate

Harry's body has been discarded as the fight commenced again, and Hermione is disgusted by the lack of respect, even on the deatheaters part. She doesn't feel any real emotion, because she knows that if she does, she will crumple to the ground and wait to die. In a way she already has, knowing it that she won't survive this. They might win, but with Harry dead, she and Ron are the only ones who stand in his way, and she knows that they will die fighting him.

She can only hope that she can take Voldemort with her.

To keep herself moving, she can't look at Harry, crumpled in a corner of the crumbling courtyard, covered in rock dust, completely still. She can't remember who started the battle again, but she's pretty sure it was Ginny. The last thing she remembers before this new haze of spells and screams is Ginny's anguished cry as the body in Hagrid's arms was identified. Almost immediately after that the fight broke out again. No time for speeches. No time for mourning. Just killing.

Voldemort is now actively in the fight, and Hermione watches as he randomly picks off the members of the opposing force, only using one spell. The green light is everywhere, crowding her vision, numbing her body. She can't tell if she's been hit by someone's spell.

She can't feel _anything._

Firing off spell after spell, her feet are carrying her toward him before her mind realizes it. The sooner she meets him, the sooner the killing will end, she hopes. She catches Ron's eye, she doesn't know how she found in the crowd, but she did and he understands.

The time has come.

They move toward eachother through the mass of bodies, clearing a path with they're wands. Even the deatheaters part, knowing their time to interfere has ended. When Hermione reaches Ron, they simultaneously reach out for one another, their fingers intertwining. They don't look at eachother, and she realizes that he knows he won't survive this, either. Atleast they're not alone.

Hermione steps over the body of a red-headed girl that she vaguely recognizes through emotionless mind. Ginny. Another body. Fleur. And Another. Neville.

Sensing that she is loosing her grip on strength, she stops looking at the ground and stares blankly at the black cloaked figure in front of her. She can feel her emotions threatening to break loose and destroy her, but hangs onto Ron for support and empties her mind once again. She'll have time to mourn when she's dead.

The others have cleared a rectangle of space for them, and silence falls upon them. They all know this is the moment. By now, Hermione realizes she is ready. And Ron is too. And so it ends. Here. Now.

"So this is the best that you have to offer, now that Potter is gone? You have put your cause in the hands of two scrawny teenagers? I must say, your golden trio seems very intent on killing themselves." Voldemort addresses the crowd.

There is silence momentarily, then someone yells. "Shut the hell up, Asshole!"

Voldemort ignores this and fixes Ron and Hermione with a powerful stare.

All three lift their wands at the same moment.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort is predictable.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Ron pays tribute to Harry.

"SECTUM SEMPRA!" Hermione honors Snape, who she knows has been wronged too many times.

Their spells meet with a massive burst of light, and for a moment everyone in the courtyard is mesmerized. The three dueling wizards are screaming with effort, and somehow Ron and Hermione hold up against the elder wand, perhaps by pure willpower. The crowd looks on in wonder, momentarily forgetting their troubles.

Too soon Hermione feels her power leaving, fatigue setting in. Voldemort's green light creeps closer, picking up speed. Before it reaches her, she hears the sound of flesh hitting stone and Ron's screech is cut off. Voldemort's spell breaks off, but not before Hermione's back fires on her. She feels nothing except the spread of her own blood across her chest until she sees the lifeless body of Ron to her left, and everything comes crashing down.

She is down on her hands and knees sobbing, and she can hear several others in the crowd doing the same, as well as Voldemort's laughter. She crawls over to Ron, lays her head on his still chest, and is bombarded by the images of the dead. It is too much to deal with. She is losing blood quickly, but she doesn't care. Death can't be worse than this.

Anger surges through her and she struggles to collect herself. With a final look at Ron's serene face, she struggles to her feet.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" She screeches and the most powerful spell she has ever created erupts from her wand, tears streaming down her face, shirt soaked in blood.

The dark lord doesn't even has time to raise his wand before he hits the ground.

The crowd cheers, but Hermione doesn't hear it. Her destiny fulfilled, she curls up next to Ron, and leaves the living world behind her.

c c c

When she opens her eyes, she is in her bedroom.

The dream reminds her everyday what could have happened. Of what very nearly did. The dream is vivid, but when she wakes up she notices the odd things that didn't make sense. No matter how often she has it, it never becomes less real.

An eternal reminder of how lucky Hermione Granger truly is.


End file.
